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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568093">hold me close and we can dance to the violence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/altarlife/pseuds/altarlife'>altarlife</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Avatar &amp; Benders Setting, Firebender Atsumu, Getting Together, Kinda..., M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Nonbender Kiyoomi, Pro-bender Atsumu, Yearning, and i do not mean kith, but a chi blocker, falling for the guy who meant to k word you, i just think routines are neat., implied kagehina and bokuaka, specifically 90s republic city, tenderness is stored in the soup dumpling, whatever tf the tension is that comes with</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:27:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/altarlife/pseuds/altarlife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the only son of Republic City’s president, there are responsibilities Kiyoomi must honour.</p>
<p>Miya Atsumu threatens every single one of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hold me close and we can dance to the violence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7otQGCiHg6Rbfeq27UAWrm?si=FSZdfRCvRN-MjUsEE2v4-A">here's a lil playlist i made for this fic</a>, pls enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ceiling fan spins with a slight wobble and looks as if it’ll fall on Kiyoomi any moment now. It doesn’t do much to stop the summer heat from affecting him, beads of sweat slowly rolling down his nape. It probably worsens it, circulating the same warmth over and over again with each wobbly spin. The apartment feels uncharacteristically empty, as it always does when it’s just him. He wonders if Atsumu feels the same way when he’s the one waiting.</p>
<p>Though empty, it is by no means quiet. The television is switched on to a channel that fails to grab his attention and the pipe under the kitchen sink has yet to be fixed. A steady drip-drop echoes throughout the entire apartment thanks to its humble size. Next door, the neighbours exchange a loud string of profanities. If he tunes everything else out, he can hear the sound of a rebellion coming into fruition from the distance. </p>
<p>Perhaps his senses are simply as hopeful as he is.</p>
<p>Looking away from the fan, he glances at the clock above the front door. They should’ve made it into the government complex by now. An emergency broadcast should appear on the television screen soon and Kiyoomi finds himself itching to throw a dagger at it, dread and anxiety curling around his heart. Above him, a moth flies close to the lightbulb. </p>
<p>He tries not to take it for the omen that it is.</p>
<p>With a sigh, he gets up from the couch, now riddled with burn marks courtesy of Atsumu, and heads to the kitchen. Jasmine tea would do well to silence the drumming in his chest. It helps that it happens to be Atsumu’s favourite. Traces of the firebender are everywhere in the once lifeless apartment, from the scorch marks on the furniture to the various cacti scattered all over the place.</p>
<p>It’s no use wondering now if all this will be worth it when they’re at the point of no return, all while he remains unscathed in an apartment with a barely functioning ceiling fan and mustard paint chipping from the walls. The tea steeps and the only thing Kiyoomi can do now is wait.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>——— </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Kiyoomi doesn’t have to wonder if his father is the most hated man in the city when the answer already presents itself right in front of him.</p>
<p>Behind the row of photographers, the crowd of business moguls and socialites hardly seem fazed by their president’s speech detailing a plan that would only work in the favour of Republic City’s richest. They lap it all up, always hungry for more. Kiyoomi scowls behind his glass.</p>
<p>In spite of his father’s presidency, Kiyoomi has never gone out of his way to involve himself in diplomacy. That said, he’s never actively avoided it either. Complications tend to appear when your father expects you to follow his path, except corruption and a skewed moral compass aren’t hereditary. Really, Kiyoomi’s only setting his father up for disappointment and he can’t bring himself to care. Not when the only link he has to the man is their blood.</p>
<p>After downing what’s left in his glass, Kiyoomi slips away from the hall when his father is too preoccupied to nag him any further about building connections, leaving the emptied glass beside an ornate vase outside. Once he steps foot into one of the unoccupied conference rooms, it occurs to him that he’s not as alone as he thinks he is. The next thing he knows, he has his back pressed to the wall and an arm pressed against his throat slowly cutting off his air supply.</p>
<p>“You should pay more attention to your surroundings, Kiyoomi,” his attacker chides. Kiyoomi’s jaw clenches in irritation.</p>
<p>“You should learn to take your own advice.” </p>
<p>A quick flex of his wrist triggers the holster wrapped around his forearm and a slim knife is in his grip not a second later, which he uses to press against the man’s side, hard enough to pierce skin. His attacker’s hold on him loosens ever so slightly and Kiyoomi takes the opportunity to jab him in the chest with his free hand, the hit to the pressure point sending his attacker stumbling back and collapsing on the ground with a grunt.</p>
<p>The strikes are calculated enough that they won’t leave him like a sack of potatoes for eternity, but they’re enough to keep him down for Kiyoomi to get some answers.</p>
<p>Kiyoomi rubs his throat and glances down at his now-paralysed attacker with an unimpressed stare. When flames begin to ignite at his attacker’s fingertips, Kiyoomi crouches down to quickly jab him between the shoulders, rendering his firebending ineffective and extinguishing any chance for the short-lived scuffle to escalate.</p>
<p>“<em>The hell </em>—”</p>
<p>“Can’t have you burning down the building, now can we?” Kiyoomi mutters, looking down at the firebender. While the general public are aware that Kiyoomi does not possess any bending abilities, hardly anyone knows of his chi blocking and knife throwing skills. It’s not a secret per se, but since nobody really asks, he never saw a reason to indulge. He’s had no reason to exhibit his skills in public either.</p>
<p>He can’t help the way his lips tug into a smug smirk at the sight of both confusion and frustration lining the firebender’s expression. Still, his eyes narrow when he stands back up, leaning against the wall with his knife still in hand as he keeps his gaze trained on the firebender. His other hand reaches up to switch on the lights.</p>
<p>Now that he’s granted a proper look of his attacker, what first catches Kiyoomi’s attention is his god awful dye job. It’s hard to believe that decision was intentional. His golden eyes and the whirlwind of emotions flickering in them are what draw Kiyoomi in next. Shock, vexation, annoyance, and something else he can’t quite put his finger on just yet.</p>
<p>“What do you want?” Kiyoomi asks plainly. </p>
<p>The firebender scowls up at him. “Isn’t it obvious? <em> Spirits</em>, nobody told me you could fight! ‘m gonna kill ‘Samu after this.” </p>
<p>If he could move, Kiyoomi would imagine he’d be squirming like a petulant child right now. </p>
<p>“Non-bender my fuckin’ ass.”</p>
<p>While his attacker continues to go off about this <em> ‘Samu </em> relaying the wrong information to him, Kiyoomi catches a glimpse of an intricate tiger emblem tattooed on the side of his neck. It doesn’t take him long to recognise it to be the one representing the anarchist rebellion group his father complains about every morning during breakfast. </p>
<p>Byakko. The White Tiger.</p>
<p>Well, this crosses attempted assassination off the bucket list.</p>
<p>“If you were planning to get a rise out of my father by killing me, it wouldn’t have worked. Also, chi blocking isn’t bending,” Kiyoomi shoots the firebender a look that essentially says <em> you should know better</em>. “Is anyone else with you?”</p>
<p>His attacker, or in this case <em> victim</em>, has the audacity to scoff. “Do I look like a snitch to ya?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi raises a brow at him and pushes himself off the wall to crouch in front of the firebender again, placing the tip of the knife against his chin.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you’re in any position to be withholding information from me now. I could take away your bending for good with another jab if I have to.” He can’t, but considering the firebender’s apparent lack of knowledge surrounding chi blocking, he’s willing to bet his lie will go accepted without question.</p>
<p>There’s a hint of suspicion and defiance in those golden eyes, but the firebender relents—for now.</p>
<p>“I’m alone,” he grumbles.</p>
<p>“You’re joking,” Kiyoomi deadpans. Either, this guy is <em> meant </em> to be really good at his job or Byakko is more careless than it lets on. Still, Kiyoomi adds a little more pressure to the knife under the firebender’s chin who flinches at the touch. The effects on his movement should wear off soon, but it’ll take longer for his bending to return.</p>
<p>“Oi! I’m serious, I swear! Just me, myself and I. That’s it.”</p>
<p>“And you would be?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi moves his other hand when he doesn’t get an answer and the firebender’s eyes widen. </p>
<p>“Fine, fine! It’s Atsumu. Happy now, <em> Omi-kun</em>?”</p>
<p>“What did you just call me?”</p>
<p>Atsumu grins teasingly, mockingly. “It’s only fair, don’t ya think so? Kiyoomi is just such a mouthful. Besides, now that we’re friends—”</p>
<p>“We are not friends.”</p>
<p>“I gotta give you a nickname. Either that or Omi-omi, your pick.” Atsumu finishes, grin still plastered on his face. Schooling his expression into one of indifference, Kiyoomi notices how Atsumu’s fingers start to twitch so he stands back up and feels his back hit the wall as feeling returns to Atsumu’s body. </p>
<p>He refuses to entertain Atsumu and his nicknames, instead keeping a careful eye on him as he staggers to his feet. Kiyoomi receives a betrayed look when fire fails to ignite from Atsumu’s palms.</p>
<p>“It’ll come back soon.” </p>
<p>While Kiyoomi tunes out Atsumu’s subsequent complaints, he silently mulls over a possibility the current situation presents him with. It wouldn’t be a lie to say they may share more things in common than they think, specifically to do with where their loyalties lie. Even if Atsumu were to violently disagree, he’s still got the upper hand here.</p>
<p>Atsumu is going off on a tangent about how chi blocking is essentially cheating when Kiyoomi interrupts him. “There’ll be a meeting for the new policy announcement three days from now. The president and his most trusted advisors will be there.” </p>
<p>He holds his hand up when Atsumu looks like he’s about to say something. </p>
<p>“I’ll be there too. If you guys want more dirt on him, I have access to that. I want him gone—in every sense of the word.”</p>
<p>There’s a lot more for Kiyoomi to say, to get off his chest. He cuts himself off before words he can’t afford to say just yet come tumbling out, adrenaline from the implied proposition coursing through his veins. While he believes that he’s made his stance clear on this, neither of them are in any position to trust each other. Atsumu is quick to point that out.</p>
<p>“We’ve got sources too, y’know? Give me one good reason why I should trust you, Omi-omi.”</p>
<p>Frankly, it’s appalling how a mere nickname can smother Kiyoomi’s patience so easily.</p>
<p>“I’m letting you walk out of here alive and in one piece.” </p>
<p>Atsumu doesn’t budge, save for placing his hand on his hip. Upon realising what he really wants to hear, Kiyoomi pinches the bridge of his nose, glaring at the firebender in front of him.</p>
<p>“And we’re friends, are we not?” Kiyoomi says without a trace of joy in his voice. Atsumu’s grin makes its appearance again.</p>
<p>“Glad you’re finally on board, Omi-kun. Wasn’t sure if you’d ever come around, but deep down, I had faith in ya.”</p>
<p>“You literally tried to kill me.”</p>
<p>“Yet <em> I’m </em> the only one bleeding here. You wound me, Omi-kun.”</p>
<p>Despite his smug expression, Kiyoomi has a feeling that Atsumu understands where he’s coming from, to some extent at least. Otherwise, it would be downright irresponsible to agree just like that, even if Kiyoomi wouldn’t exactly put that option past Atsumu. Though, who’s to say what really goes on in that mind of his. They’ve only known each other for ten minutes tops.</p>
<p>Kiyoomi wonders if he really does have the upper hand here.</p>
<p>When he hears his name being called outside, Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and slides the knife back into the holster underneath his sleeve while Atsumu watches.</p>
<p>“I’ve been gone for too long.” </p>
<p>He smooths out the collar of his top followed by a quick comb through of his hair with his fingers, fully aware of the stare trained on him. “We can settle things then if you don’t like what you hear.” </p>
<p>
  <em> If you’d like to get your ass handed to you again. </em>
</p>
<p>“I’ve got no choice but to take you up on that offer. Y’know what? Let’s make it a da—” Kiyoomi shoots him another withering glare before Atsumu can finish that sentence. </p>
<p>Atsumu has yet to fully shake off the effects of the chi block, stumbling a little to keep up with Kiyoomi. “Fuck, why the hell do my legs feel like jelly? Hold up, Omi-kun, where are we meeting?” </p>
<p>“You have your sources, right? I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Without sparing Atsumu another glance, Kiyoomi shuts the door behind him and smiles to himself when he hears an annoyed groan from the other side of the door.</p>
<p>
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</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>
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</p>
<p>As the only son of Republic City’s president, there are responsibilities Kiyoomi must honour.</p>
<p>Miya Atsumu threatens every single one of them.</p>
<p>Once they had established a decent level of trust after their first meeting post-assassination attempt, Kiyoomi began feeding Byakko confidential information accessible to him from his father’s office. From proposals to financial reports, whatever would fuel the fire, Kiyoomi would provide. He has yet to hit a dead end concerning his father’s corruption and the deeper he digs, the more he wants to sever all his ties with Republic City’s bastard president.</p>
<p>If only it were that easy.</p>
<p>Though wary of Kiyoomi’s sudden interest in his work, his father’s initial suspicions wavered thinking that this was simply his son finally pulling his own weight. That’s what he tells Atsumu when the firebender asks him about it one day after a match.</p>
<p>As it turns out, not only is Atsumu working for Byakko, but he’s also part of some infamous probending team that Kiyoomi’s never heard of.</p>
<p>
  <em> (“Can’t be that good if I’ve never heard of you.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “That’s ‘cos you never go out, Omi-kun! Come to my next match, then you’ll see for yourself.”) </em>
</p>
<p>Whether it’s out of spite or something much more different, Kiyoomi takes him up on that offer, along with the rest that soon follow.</p>
<p>In the first match he spectates, he learns that Atsumu’s much more talented and calculating than what he let on during their first encounter. If Kiyoomi were really as vulnerable as Byakko thought, Atsumu’s job would’ve been a breeze. There’s a certain fluidity in his movements that has Kiyoomi wondering if it has something to do with the waterbender on his team whose attacks resemble a snake’s strike. The trio work in tandem effortlessly, as if they are all extensions of each other’s bodies, if not a single one. </p>
<p>With their uniform on, Kiyoomi can’t tell if the other two are part of Byakko as well.</p>
<p>The arena is always packed and gratingly loud and a part of Kiyoomi desperately wants to leave every time he steps foot into the building. But they’ve established some sort of routine by the fifth game he attends where after the end of a match, Kiyoomi waits until most of the audience filters out for Atsumu so they can leave together after indulging in some small talk with Atsumu’s teammates. </p>
<p>Kiyoomi isn’t sure how they reached this point and he refuses to linger on the subject any longer than he should, not when there are more important matters to attend to.</p>
<p>He’d still choose it over those boring galas and press conferences his father drags him to.</p>
<p>“Omi-kun, you made it!”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi almost rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know why Atsumu is so insistent on greeting him that way when he hasn’t missed a match since the first one. </p>
<p>“You should’ve aimed higher for the final blow,” he says instead of a greeting. It’s one of the few critiques Kiyoomi can come up with, considering the Black Jackals always deliver a close to perfect performance.</p>
<p>“That would have burnt the guy’s face off,” Hinata chimes, sounding far too chipper for the topic.</p>
<p>“Which isn’t allowed, Omi-kun,” Atsumu finishes. </p>
<p>Kiyoomi wonders if he actually would’ve done that if it were allowed, then frowns at the blooming bruise on Atsumu’s left arm. Must’ve been from the particularly nasty hit the opposing team’s earthbender landed on him. Something possesses him to gently graze it with his fingertips until he hears Atsumu’s breath catch in his throat, breaking the spell. </p>
<p>So he pokes it. </p>
<p>Atsumu yelps.</p>
<p>“What was that for?!”</p>
<p>“Isn’t there a healer around here?” Kiyoomi asks, glancing at Hinata and Bokuto for an answer. </p>
<p>The pair are distracted though, attention swept away by their respective partners who also stayed behind. A strange mixture of envy and warmth begins to take shape the longer he stares at them. He sighs and looks back at Atsumu, hoping the red in his cheeks isn’t obvious anymore.</p>
<p>“Don’t need one,” Atsumu says while rubbing the bruise, looking as smug and defiant as ever as if his pride would take a hit from healing a bruise.</p>
<p>This time, Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, but falls into step with him nonetheless as the group of six, divided into pairs, leaves the decrepit building.</p>
<p>Spring in Republic City makes room for awfully humid evenings, despite the occasional breeze that lightly tousles Kiyoomi’s dark curls every now and then. The two couples are a couple steps ahead of them now and Kiyoomi stifles a smile at the sight, turning his attention to the firebender beside him. </p>
<p>Their walks after the matches are often reserved for trivial things, since they can’t exactly discuss anything Byakko-related on these streets. Perhaps that’s why Kiyoomi can’t help but maintain his attendance, drawn in not only by the promise of watching Atsumu in his element, but by the promise of something else blossoming between them. In these conversations, he is Sakusa Kiyoomi, friend, asshole, regular human being—not Sakusa Kiyoomi, the traitorous son of Republic City’s president.</p>
<p>“It sucks that you can’t join the team. The fans would love ya,” Atsumu says.</p>
<p>“You know that’s not my scene.” </p>
<p>That is a white lie at best. Oftentimes, Kiyoomi imagines himself among the Black Jackals, donning their signature black and gold uniform. Imagines what it would be like to fight in sync with Atsumu’s unrelenting flames. What it would be like to emerge victorious and drink in the audience’s deafening roars. Kiyoomi limits it to just that, <em> imagining</em>, because aside from the rules of pro-bending, his aversion to the spotlight puts him off the idea in the end.</p>
<p>“You could just paralyse them all and save us the trouble of havin’ to use our bending,” Atsumu continues, clearly content with his idea from the way he’s grinning to himself.</p>
<p>Kiyoomi wants to laugh at that, but settles for a mere huff instead. “Three pro-benders against one non-bender doesn’t sound very fair.”</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t sell yourself short like that, Omi-kun. <em> Anyways</em>, we could always hold them down for ya.”</p>
<p>“Then you could knock them off the platform yourself right after that, no?”</p>
<p>The moonlight hits all the right angles when Atsumu looks up at him, lips quirked into a smirk. </p>
<p>“But where’s the fun in that?”</p>
<p>Bokuto interrupts their conversation before Kiyoomi can reply when the path before them splits into two, bidding them a goodbye for tonight with Hinata following suit. Kiyoomi promises to attend the next match as he always does and steps to the side to avoid Bokuto’s heavy pat on the back, which Atsumu subsequently bears the brunt of. The street lamp between the two paths flickers and just like that, it’s just the two of them left. </p>
<p>“They aren’t part of it, are they?” he finally asks when the couples are out of sight.</p>
<p>Atsumu shakes his head. “Nah, but they know about me. Can’t exactly hide my neck in the changing rooms.”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi thought as much. They continue their walk down the other path leading to the Dragon Flats borough, reminding Kiyoomi about the weight in his left pocket. </p>
<p>“Atsumu.”</p>
<p>Pausing in his tracks, Kiyoomi holds out a key and a rolled up slip of paper containing a phone number and a neatly-written address. It leads to a shabby apartment in the Walled City with peeling yellow walls and a fan that just barely works, situated on the outskirts of Dragon Flats. Without a doubt, Atsumu must recognise the place since Kiyoomi’s heard whispers about certain members of Byakko lurking among the compressed apartments and tight corridors. Though the Walled City and everything in it continue to leave Kiyoomi feeling like something is crawling under his skin, it’s his best escape from the life afforded to him by his father, regardless of how temporary it is.</p>
<p>“It’ll be safer to meet there from now on.”</p>
<p><em> Liar</em>.</p>
<p>He waits for a teasing remark, perhaps a conniving grin on top of that, but Atsumu only looks at him with a glint in his eyes he can’t recognise. What Kiyoomi does know is that when Atsumu takes the offered key and rolled paper, the smile that takes shape on his features lacks the typical sharpness in its edges in place of something softer. It catches Kiyoomi off guard.</p>
<p>“You sure ‘bout this?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi hums and starts walking again, quick to avoid the amber light from the street lamp that would most definitely expose the red flush slowly creeping up his neck.</p>
<p>“Just make sure to call before you drop by.”</p>
<p>When he doesn’t hear any footsteps other than his own, he looks back. Atsumu is still standing there, staring at the key in his hand, smile still in place. </p>
<p>“Miya.” </p>
<p>Atsumu snaps his head up when Kiyoomi calls to him. </p>
<p>“C’mon, Granny Wong’s stall will be closing soon.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
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</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>
  <br/>
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</p>
<p>The scent of steamed soup dumplings and freshly sliced ginger wafts through the apartment with peeling mustard walls. When sunlight filters in through the curtains, bright and early in the morning, the colour reminds Kiyoomi of a certain firebender’s hair—though slightly more offending to the eye this time. When he tells Atsumu about this, the reaction Kiyoomi receives draws a proper laugh out of him for once. </p>
<p>Atsumu’s threat to never visit again falls through when he shows up later that evening with dumplings from Granny Wong’s stall. </p>
<p>Autumn is right at their doorstep, with most of the summer spent orchestrating various plans for Byakko. Despite dedicating nearly half a year’s worth of confidential information and betrayal to the organisation, Kiyoomi has only met three members with the tiger emblem on their necks, including Atsumu. </p>
<p>Their accidental run-in with Kuroo in one of the many nooks and crannies of the Walled City had left Kiyoomi wondering if a certain degree of <em> obnoxious </em> was required to join Byakko, alongside questionable hair choices. Shortly after, there was Suna, who followed Atsumu back to Kiyoomi’s apartment (<em>“If I knew he was following me, I wouldn’t have led him back ‘ere, Omi-kun!” “Aren’t you meant to be good at your job?” </em>), who had supported Kiyoomi’s little hypothesis with his all-too-knowing grin. </p>
<p>Strangely enough, Kiyoomi isn’t necessarily bothered with the distance set between him and Byakko. For starters, he can’t fault them for their preventive measures. He knew what he signed up for the moment he confessed to Atsumu that essentially, getting rid of his father is something he gladly can get behind. </p>
<p>More importantly, that distance is more often than not bridged by Atsumu, who feeds Kiyoomi with anecdotes that leaves him with enough material to form the bare bones of those Atsumu keeps close to him. </p>
<p>Kiyoomi sometimes wonders whether Atsumu ever dishes out anecdotes involving him to others, or if he keeps everything within these mustard walls to himself.</p>
<p>“Your dumplings are gonna get cold if you just keep starin’ off into space,” Atsumu points out, drawing Kiyoomi out of his thoughts.</p>
<p>He glances at the dish between them on the couch—a recipe for disaster if it weren’t for practice—and says, “You’re basically a portable microwave, Miya.”</p>
<p>Atsumu clicks his tongue. “Is that all I am to ya, Omi-kun?”</p>
<p>
  <em> Obviously not. </em>
</p>
<p>“You’d make a great heater as well,” Kiyoomi says.</p>
<p>Atsumu looks like he wants to shove Kiyoomi off the couch. Kiyoomi looks down at the plate of soup dumplings precariously balanced atop the limited stable space on the couch, then looks back up to meet Atsumu’s narrowed eyes with a slight smirk that says <em> do it if you dare </em>.</p>
<p>He doesn’t and opts for stealing the dumpling Kiyoomi had his sights set on instead. Kiyoomi doesn’t even try to stop Atsumu when he shoves it all in his mouth. When the consequences of his spite dawns upon Atsumu, Kiyoomi stifles a laugh at his puffed out cheeks, but it slips out anyway when it becomes apparent that Atsumu hasn’t bitten into the dumpling, nor does he want to.</p>
<p>Atsumu’s shoulders slump, then he slowly raises his hand to his mouth. Kiyoomi’s gaze sharpens into a glare.</p>
<p>“Absolutely not. You are not spitting it out. Are you five?”</p>
<p>Atsumu lets out a muffled whine.</p>
<p>“Just bite into it, Miya,” Kiyoomi says, carefully adding slices of ginger into the opening he bit into a dumpling—an example of what Atsumu should have done instead of caving into his need for petty revenge. “It won’t kill you.”</p>
<p>When Atsumu eventually gives in, Kiyoomi has a glass of iced jasmine tea ready for him. They finish the rest of the dumplings properly, mostly in silence following Atsumu’s initial complaints. The forgotten film playing on the television makes up for the lack of conversation, accompanied by the intermittent shouting match coming from next door.</p>
<p>Once the plate is cleared up, the two of them assume their usual positions: Atsumu’s neck supported by a cushion against the right armrest, his legs resting atop Kiyoomi’s thighs; Kiyoomi’s arm resting over the left armrest, lazily spinning a butterfly knife between his fingers while his right arm is draped over Atsumu’s calves. </p>
<p>“You’re gonna get indigestion lying like that.”</p>
<p>“Worried ‘bout me, Omi-kun?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi lightly pinches Atsumu’s leg.</p>
<p>This has become an addition to their growing routine, the comfort derived from it painfully familiar to Kiyoomi. Most of the time, they’ll both doze off, lulled to sleep by some trashy television show or monotonous film. Sometimes, Kiyoomi will wake up alone, with a pillow to support his neck and a blanket draped over his body. And no matter what, Atsumu will always call first.</p>
<p>Briefly looking away from the screen, Kiyoomi turns his attention to Atsumu, whose own gaze is caught by the events unfolding in the movie. The woman in the television lets out a shriek and Atsumu flinches, then furrows his brows. Kiyoomi wants to smooth out the crease between them with his thumb. He settles for rubbing slow circles over the warped heart-shaped birthmark on the side of Atsumu’s left knee, looking back at the screen lest he gets caught staring. </p>
<p>When Kiyoomi feels a curious stare land on him, he allows himself to smile just a little.</p>
<p>“Omi-kun,” Atsumu says after one of the main characters is killed off-screen. “You aren’t doin’ all this to spite your dad, are ya?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s hands still and he folds the butterfly knife in on itself.</p>
<p>The question translates into a loaded one: are you using me?</p>
<p>“No. Did I do something that gave off that impression?”</p>
<p>Atsumu averts his eyes, bottom lip momentarily caught between his teeth.</p>
<p>“Well, no, not really. I just didn’t think you’d be cool with all this, that’s all. And ‘Samu said to not do anything stupid with everything goin’ on, it’s like...” he trails off, before shaking his head and waving it off. “Nevermind, just forget I even said anything.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t comfortable with it.” <em> With you. </em> “Does this bother you?”</p>
<p>“No,” Atsumu answers almost immediately and the worry in his face dissipates away, making room for a content smile to take its place instead. “I’m fine, Omi-kun.”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi blinks, then resumes what he was doing. The corners of his lips curl up ever so slightly.</p>
<p>“That’s good.”</p>
<p>Atsumu hums.</p>
<p>
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</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>
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</p>
<p>An aggressive pounding on the door wakes him from his nap, each hit rattling the mustard walls. Disgruntled, Kiyoomi purses his lips, then slips on a holster with a few daggers around his left arm, rolling down his loose sleeves before approaching the door. Though he could easily paralyse whatever awaits him outside, there’s no fault in preparing himself for something different.</p>
<p>“Sakusa, open up!” </p>
<p>The voice itself, laden with annoyance and desperation, is unfamiliar, but there’s a twinge to the stranger’s accent that reminds Kiyoomi of Atsumu.</p>
<p>Narrowing his eyes, he looks through the peephole and wonders if he’s seeing double. Only, the other Atsumu’s hair is a natural dark brown. <em> Osamu </em>. Kiyoomi recalls Atsumu mentioning his twin brother, often either in the form of a rant or a fragment of some childhood memory. Right now, a pallid-faced Atsumu has his arm slung around Osamu’s neck, who’s clearly supporting his weight, face twisted in impatience.</p>
<p>Before Osamu can deliver another hit, Kiyoomi unlocks the door, stepping aside when the two all but barge in. He glances outside quickly, relieved to see everyone minding their own business as per, then locks the door behind him.</p>
<p>“What the hell happened?”</p>
<p>“Sorry ‘bout this, but not really. He’s your problem too now,” Osamu says, unceremoniously dropping his brother onto the couch like a rag doll. Kiyoomi isn’t sure what to make of that last remark, but before he can linger on it any longer, the lack of tension in Atsumu’s movements catches his eye. It’s reminiscent of the evening they first met, only it seems much more severe this time.</p>
<p>Osamu peeks through the curtains by the window, then glances back at Kiyoomi with an unimpressed stare.</p>
<p>“This place is like a fuckin’ maze. He didn’t even give me the full address before he turned into… that. Anyways, Rin’s on his way to fix him up.”</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long for Kiyoomi to put the pieces together. If his apartment was their first choice to barge into, that means they were probably nearby in the Dragon Flats, which is where Kiyoomi learned most of what he knows. Could it be?</p>
<p>And who the fuck is Rin?</p>
<p>“You still haven’t answered my question,” Kiyoomi says pointedly.</p>
<p>“Dumbass decided to tie up some loose ends on his own and got his ass handed to him,” Osamu huffs, rubbing his neck. “This is why we listen to Kita-san’s orders.”</p>
<p>Atsumu mutters something unintelligible, something that’s probably a snarky reply to Osamu’s exposé on him, confirming Kiyoomi’s suspicions. There’s still something else going on beneath the paralysis. Simple paralysis wouldn’t make him break out in sweats, bleach blond hair clinging onto his now-pasty forehead. There are flecks of blood across his jawline, a vibrant red against a pale canvas, and Kiyoomi wonders who it came from.</p>
<p>“This Rin won’t be able to heal him yet. His chi flow’s been blocked.”</p>
<p>Osamu snorts. “A non-bender kicked your ass <em> again</em>?” </p>
<p>Kiyoomi glares at Osamu for the patronising tone attached to <em> non-bender</em>, who raises his hands in faux surrender. Obnoxiousness is definitely a common trait among the Byakko members. </p>
<p>Yet, he leans down in front of Atsumu anyway, carefully lifting him up with his left hand to shift him to his side and expose his back. Kiyoomi spares Osamu a glance, searching for any trace of objection in his features and when he finds none, he quickly jabs the space between Atsumu’s shoulder blades. </p>
<p>When Atsumu rolls his shoulders, they all let out a collective sigh of relief.</p>
<p>At least now, they can gauge just how bad the damage is once his nerves slowly reawaken.</p>
<p>“<em>As I was sayin’</em>, she caught me by surprise,” Atsumu snaps, pulling a face at Osamu.</p>
<p>“That’s what happened last time with Sakusa. Don’t ya ever learn?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi straightens his back, leaving the twins to bicker in the living room to grab some water from the kitchen. He hears the front door slam shut moments after and cringes when it reverberates throughout the entire apartment. It doesn’t surprise him that the two can be equally as loud, though they’re different brands of loud with Atsumu being more raw and raucous, and Osamu more deliberate with his phrasing.</p>
<p>When Kiyoomi heads back into the living room with three glasses of water and a damp towel balanced on a small tray, he finds that he’s been left alone with Atsumu. </p>
<p>“Where did your brother go?” he asks, setting the tray down on a small wooden stool.</p>
<p>“Went to go find Suna and get lost <em> again</em>,” Atsumu mutters. “He knocked on like, four other doors before getting here, y’know.”</p>
<p>Suna must be the ‘Rin’ Osamu mentioned earlier. Kiyoomi pockets that information together with everything else he’s learnt from Atsumu.</p>
<p>The firebender has an arm thrown over his eyes and Kiyoomi can make out the discomfort from whatever he’s been afflicted with is beginning to return, as well as a light dusting of pink over his cheeks. Back in the kitchen, he couldn’t quite catch whatever they were talking about. Could it simply just be a side effect?</p>
<p>“Seeing as you both made it here just fine, he got lucky,” Kiyoomi says and offers Atsumu a hand. “Sit up for a bit.”</p>
<p>Atsumu groans when Kiyoomi pulls him up so that he’s no longer lying flat on the couch. His hand is cold and clammy and Kiyoomi doesn’t really want to let go even if in any other case, it would definitely make him recoil from the touch. He silently hands Atsumu a glass of water, sitting down on the space left on the couch near Atsumu’s waist.</p>
<p>“Did you at least finish whatever you were doing out there?” Kiyoomi asks, picking up the damp towel from the tray.</p>
<p>“Nah, ‘Samu had to do it for me,” Atsumu grumbles, slightly trembling when he sets the empty glass down on the floor.</p>
<p>“You should invest in some metal armour next time you chase after a chi-blocker.”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi leans in and lightly cups Atsumu’s jaw with his free hand, gently wiping the sweat off Atsumu’s forehead. Once again, Atsumu’s stare weighs heavy on him and when Kiyoomi briefly meets it, the flush around his cheeks increases in vibrancy. At that moment, Kiyoomi finally notices the little distance between them, how Atsumu leans into the warmth of his palm. Folding the towel so that he can clean the blood off Atsumu’s jaw, Kiyoomi hopes his cheeks aren’t equally as flushed. </p>
<p>“Should I wear one ‘round you then?”</p>
<p>“Do you feel threatened by me?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi raises a brow at him, sitting up straight after setting the towel aside now that Atsumu’s face is looking somewhat better, though the colour has yet to fully return to his skin. </p>
<p>“Sometimes,” Atsumu admits, offering Kiyoomi a crooked grin as he lies back down. It doesn’t stay for long, with a grimace interrupting it right after. His attempt to stifle it hardly brings any relief to Kiyoomi, whose worry grows with each passing moment. </p>
<p>Kiyoomi clicks his tongue, looking at the door; Osamu and Suna are taking an awfully long time.</p>
<p>“I’ll go look for your brother and Suna,” he says, about to get up when Atsumu grabs his wrist. </p>
<p>“I’m fine, Omi-kun—what if one of your weird neighbours barges in and kills me while you’re gone?” </p>
<p>When Kiyoomi sits back down, Atsumu still has his fingers lightly wrapped around his wrist. He sighs, looking down at the firebender’s pale face. Breaking away from Atsumu’s grip, Kiyoomi reaches over to brush his bleached hair out of his eyes and ends up softly running his fingers through the faux blond locks. His hair is softer than Kiyoomi thought it’d be. </p>
<p>“Don’t be so dramatic,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, a fond smile dancing across his lips. “You can’t die on me just yet, Atsumu.”</p>
<p>He refuses to let their story end here. This is, after all, just the beginning.</p>
<p>
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</p>
<p>———</p>
<p>
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<p>The Walled City comes to life with a thunderous roar when the emergency broadcast finally airs.</p>
<p>Republic City’s president has been assassinated and Byakko has claimed responsibility for it, staking their claim on the role he left behind.</p>
<p>Through the curtains, Kiyoomi catches glimpses of blurred shadows of people quickly ushering out of their apartments, no doubt to spread the news around. His neighbours have stopped their shouting match and laughter and cries of relief take its place. But with the sudden burst of vigour and celebration in the air, Kiyoomi raises his guard, eyeing his front door with added vigilance, prepared for whatever may follow, whether it be Atsumu or uninvited chaos.</p>
<p>When the doorknob rattles, he sets his teacup down on the wooden stool by the couch, and unsheathes the dagger up his right sleeve. When the door slowly opens, Kiyoomi’s impulses kick in first before he can recognise the flash of blond or the accented nickname in lieu of a normal greeting.</p>
<p>He misses his mark for the first time.</p>
<p>But that’s perfectly fine when it’s a startled Atsumu, hair a tousled mess and clothes riddled with strokes of dark ash, standing there in the doorway, with Kiyoomi’s dagger stuck in the mustard yellow wall just a mere handspan away from his head.</p>
<p>Kiyoomi lets out a sigh of relief, the tension in his limbs finally dissipating away into a distant memory while Atsumu shuts the door behind him. He leaves the dagger in the wall, approaching Kiyoomi with his lips curled into a tired smile. Peeling himself off the couch, Kiyoomi meets him halfway and welcomes Atsumu into his arms. </p>
<p>It’s hot enough as is with the oppressive humid summer heat, but Atsumu burns brighter, the thrill of their victory practically setting his nerves ablaze.</p>
<p>Melting into his touch, Kiyoomi holds him close.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I forgot to call,” Atsumu murmurs against the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck. “Am I supposed to say that I’m sorry for your loss?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi laughs quietly and says, “I’m glad you’re okay.”</p>
<p>He lightly brushes the traces of ash out of Atsumu’s hair and presses a soft kiss atop the crown of his head, a wordless apology for the dagger that missed him earlier. Perhaps his intuition made him miss for once, or luck is just on their side today.</p>
<p>“Did everything go according to plan?” he asks.</p>
<p>Atsumu hums into his neck and it’s almost ticklish. </p>
<p>“The Black Jackals would've missed you.”</p>
<p>“You sayin' they would suck without me, Omi-kun?”</p>
<p>Kiyoomi scoffs, fond. “I just don't know any other firebender.”</p>
<p>Atsumu playfully nips at the soft skin of Kiyoomi's neck in retaliation.</p>
<p>“Couldn’t have done it without your help,” Atsumu admits then, before he looks up at Kiyoomi, golden eyes flitting down at Kiyoomi’s lips before meeting his stare. </p>
<p>“They’ll be lookin’ for you.”</p>
<p>Not Byakko, of course, but his father’s cabinet. But that’s a worry for another day. God forbid Kiyoomi lives in the moment for once.</p>
<p>With a sigh, Kiyoomi leans in and Atsumu’s grip around him tightens, palms radiating a faint heat over the small of Kiyoomi’s back.</p>
<p>“Let them look.”</p>
<p>Atsumu smiles, tender and warm, against his lips.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this idea just would not leave my head so i wrote this instead of my dissertation over the course of 5 days and i still don't know what to make of it but i hope you enjoyed &lt;3</p>
<p>just some extra info about this verse: obvs took some creative liberties with the extent of chi-blocking, kiyoomi's abilities are basically like mai and ty lee's combined, osamu can lightning bend, bokuto is an earthbender and hinata a waterbender (for the sake of the probending dynamics), the walled city is based off kowloon walled city, byakko is composed of inarizaki and nekoma members, the avatar is just.. vibin elsewhere—suspend your disbelief! </p>
<p>as always, kudos and comments are appreciated if you enjoyed this! i can be found at <a href="https://twitter.com/MAKIZENlNS">@MAKIZENlNS</a> on twitter if you wanna join my jjk and hq brainrot moment :o)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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